Acorna’s Search

by Anne McCaffrey

  “I’ll take care of Khornya, Captain, have no fear,” Thariinye said.

  Becker rolled his eyes and didn’t dignify that remark with an answer.

  “I will,” Thariinye said. “And we’ll get Maati and Aari back, too, and the others. Won’t we, Khornya?”

  “We’ll try, Thariinye,” she said. “You know, Captain, Uncle Hafiz mentioned something about research. I can’t help but feel that whatever is causing these disappearances has nothing to do with the Khleevi. It doesn’t have their touch—the terror and destruction that are the hallmarks of their inventions. I am beginning to wonder if it is keyed into our own people’s history on the planet. It seems to me that if this—problem—is happening to us now and yet, if what Aari observed was true all over the planet, it did not trouble the Khleevi—”

  Becker snorted, “Not much troubled the Khleevi. They weren’t exactly sensitive little things.”

  “No, but Aari felt fairly certain that they were unmolested in their destruction of the planet. It seems to me that the destruction our enemies visited upon Vhiliinyar itself may have stirred up some forces from long ago, from back when the Friends first brought life to this planet. Remember what Maarni told us about the sii-Linyaari vanishing into thin air? Maybe these disappearances are related—following the same path as the sii-Linyaari. Perhaps the Ancestors would have some clue about this. I wonder if an interview with them might be illuminating.”

  “Oh, yes,” Thariinye said. “The Ancestors are older even than Grandam was. If anyone knows about the olden days they do. I think Joh—”

  “Captain Becker to you, punk,” Becker said.

  “All right—Captain Becker, then,” Thariinye said with a pout, “must take us to narhii-Vhiliinyar to see them. The Ancestors no doubt already know what is happening here and why, and will be able to tell us what has become of our friends in that sarcastic, cryptic way they have. Maybe it is possible they know how to get our friends back. Yes, going to see them is a very good idea.” He said this with a great deal of self-satisfaction, as if it had been his idea, which was exactly the sort of thing Thariinye often did that irritated people. But Acorna was glad to think they’d agreed on any valid course of action, no matter who thought of it first.

  She would consult with Hafiz, and head back to narhii-Vhiliinyar as soon as possible.

  Six

  Unlike their descendants, the Linyaari, the Ancestors needed none of the trappings of civilization to live their lives in a happy and fulfilled manner. As soon as the funerals on narhii-Vhiliinyar were over and the losses counted, the Ancestors retired to their accustomed hills, and began to heal the damage left behind by the Khleevi. They had only to apply their horns to the scorched and scored soil to make it flourish again, green with shoots of their favorite grasses. They were content in their place.

  The Ancestors’ Linyaari handlers needed almost as little as their charges: a place to store the ceremonial trappings, a pavilion for when the weather was inclement, grazing privileges on the newly restored fields, and they, too, were satisfied.

  Becker landed at the site of the old spaceport and began accepting loads of salvage again from Linyaari who had been picking through the ashes for it. The sale of such gleanings would help to offset some of the

  Linyaari debt to Uncle Hafiz for the reclamation of both Vhiliinyar and narhii-Vhiliinyar, although in the long run the Linyaari services to Hafiz as healers and psychics would be far more valuable than the more tangible goods they were unearthing. But it felt good for them to be doing something physical, while they were cleaning up the mess the Khleevi had left behind.

  Linyaari began lining up, their arms full, some of them pulling makeshift carts and wagons also full of debris, as the ship set down. Becker greeted most of the waiting Linyaari as old friends, but Acorna spared little more than a nod for most of them as she passed. Already her thoughts flew ahead of her feet, as she moved quickly toward the hills and her forthcoming visit to the Ancestors.

  Thariinye trotted along beside her, occasionally bursting into a flurry of distracted chatter. This told her that he was as profoundly disturbed by the disappearance of their friends as she was. She knew he had grown to admire Aari and was, though he would deny it, genuinely fond of Maati.

  They traveled for three days from the spaceport before reaching the hills where the Ancestors lived.

  Acorna realized as they came down over the brow of one of the hills that the “hills” were actually a single ridge—the rim of a very old volcanic crater. A beautiful blue-green lake filled much of the basin, surrounded by flowering blue meadows and groves of young trees. The Ancestors had done a fine job at restoring their home-place to normalcy.

  Two of the Linyaari Attendants walked toward them across the meadow where the four-footed, goat-bearded unicorns from whom the Linyaari were partly descended stood grazing, sleeping, or simply enjoying the day. The weather of narhii-Vhiliinyar seemed unusually fine after the storms of Vhiliinyar, with high fleecy pink clouds and warm sunshine. At nightfall a light rain would mist the fields for about an hour, just to cool things off, before clearing off so the individual stars could be counted and clearly identified.

  “Greetings, Khornya and Thariinye,” said the female Attendant wearing fuchsia and lime silks. “You are troubled and your news is troubled. Grandmother says you have come to ruin her day.”

  “Well, I might do that, but it’s not why I’ve come,” Acorna said, dredging up a small smile. “We need help. We need to draw on the wisdom of the Ancestors and their memories of things past. Some of our people have come into danger. We feel that it might be due to things that happened long ago. Only by learning more about the past can we determine what has now become of these people and how best to help them.”

  “You can ask,” the other Attendant said. He wore yellow and sapphire silks and was perhaps a head shorter than Acorna. His voice held a wry twist to it.

  When Acorna had conversed with the Ancestors before, the Attendants had served as interpreters most of the time. This time, however, she caught commands from the Old Ones themselves as they approached.

  “Hurry up, Children. I’m trying to save you some of this but it isn’t easy around these other old goats. Nobody has any manners these days.”

  “Never mind her, Younglings. You’re troubled. Come graze and tell us what’s on your mind and how we can help.”

  “Of course they’re troubled. They’ve been gallivanting around the universe in one of those ridiculous contraptions. It’s enough to unhinge anybody.”

  “That’s not it, you old fool. I can hear already that it’s something far more serious. If you will just quit sending so much perhaps we could read why they’ve come to see us.”

  Acorna couldn’t tell which thoughts were coming from which Ancestor, they came so quickly, but she settled herself in the middle of a group of three. Four more ambled casually to the edge of the group and put their heads down to tear up some grass.

  She waited for them to raise their heads and begin chewing before she said, “People are missing. A lot of people. We were mapping on Vhiliinyar, trying to make sure that during the terraforming we put things back where they belong, just as they were in the old days. On the first day of our survey, Liriili disappeared. Some of us thought she might have found a way to leave the surface. But then in a few days, another person disappeared and then another, and then, suddenly, people began vanishing in large numbers.”

  “Which people?” the Grandmother nearest her asked.

  Acorna told her.

  “Hmmm,” was the only reply.

  Thariinye said, “So we were wondering, Wise Ones, if you know anything about Vhiliinyar that might explain what’s causing this problem. Since you have been around longer than anyone else, we thought you might remember something that will help us find our friends. Anything you can remember would be useful, even dating as far back as the time of the Friends.”

  “We’re not that old, Sonny,” a Grandfather in
formed him. “And if we were wise enough to know all about it, we’d have been wise enough to warn you to avoid it, wouldn’t we? Vanishings on Vhiliinyar…I’ve never heard of such a thing, myself.”

  “Oh,” Thariinye said, with a wink at Acorna. “Then Maarni must have been wrong when she said how knowledgeable of ancient history the Ancestors are. How sad. I’m sure that, whatever has become of her, she’ll be understanding if you don’t know enough to help.”

  The old Grandfather gave a snort and a very indecorous laugh and one of the Grandmothers, a rather plump one, nuzzled Thariinye’s cheek with her horn. “Isn’t that the cutest thing you ever saw? The little dear is trying to manipulate us.”

  “Aren’t you the clever one, though?” cooed another Grandmother.

  Thariinye ducked his head boyishly at being caught out. But Acorna said, “I don’t see how we can be said to be manipulating you. We’ve told you already we need your help. And Maarni is among the missing, though it’s true we don’t know what she’s thinking. But she certainly found a lot of worth in the stories you told her, and that’s part of what gave us the idea of coming to you in case you know something that might help.”

  “Maarni is that nice girl who likes those tall tales you tell her, Hree,” the plump Grandmother said to the Grandfather.

  “Oh, yes, she’s a polite girl. Always brings the most delicious flowers she grows herself when she comes for stories. I’m sorry she’s missing. Wish I could think of something to help. Which of my stories did she tell you?” he asked.

  “The one about the waterfall was the first one,” Acorna said. “That was awfully interesting. It certainly shed some light on the characters of the Friends. I had no idea they ever thought of the Ancestors in that sort of way.”

  “Well, of course they did, silly girl. Otherwise, how do you suppose your kind came to be?”

  “Haarilii, don’t scandalize the poor girl. Of course it took more than that, sweetheart, there was a lot of scientific tinkering involved in getting from us and them to you. We were alien lifeforms to each other initially, after all.”

  “She also mentioned—after we found an artifact—that there were once another kind of Linyaari—sii-Linyaari, I believe she said. They lived in the oceans. She told us that they’d been gone for some time, that they vanished one day long ago.”

  “Is that what she said?” one of the Grandmothers asked in a brisk disapproving voice. “Some things she wasn’t supposed to repeat.”

  “Really?” Acorna asked. “Why not?”

  Thariinye asked eagerly, “Was it something maybe to do with breeding?”

  “Thariinye, do not be rude!” Acorna told him. It wasn’t that she thought there was anything one shouldn’t speak of regarding breeding. It was just that it seemed to be all Thariinye was thinking about. That wasn’t exactly the case—Acorna thought he was just hoping the topic the Ancestors expounded on first would be the one he found most interesting.

  She was rather surprised therefore when one of the Grandmothers said, “How did you guess?”

  Before he could answer a Grandfather continued, “It’s not about breeding in a recreational kind of way, sonny, I know what you’re thinking. It’s about the scientific kind of breeding, which supposedly takes the strengths of two species and combines them to make what should be an even stronger species. It requires some fiddling by those who are directing the process. That’s how the Friends took themselves and us and came up with you younglings. But it’s also how they came up with the sii-Linyaari.”

  “How can that be?” Acorna asked, though she could think of several reasons how it might be.

  “The way I heard it,” the plump Grandmother said confidentially, “it’s because the Friends were not all alike. Some were one kind and some were another.”

  “I’m sure they meant nothing bad by it, creating those strange creatures,” said a very old Grandfather. “They were just trying different forms out. They did that, my grandsire said. Always tinkering.”

  “Aye,” said a very old Grandmother wisely. “My Grandam hinted that the Friends had many different appearances—that even the same person took many seemings sometimes. She never came right out and said shapeshifter, but she did say—and she had actually met them, mind you—that we were not the first people they took to themselves and blended with. That they had done it elsewhere, with other races. Vhiliinyar was only one of the planets they had inhabited throughout their long history.”

  “But you’re not supposed to repeat that,” the plump Grandmother told them. “It would upset people.”

  “Yes,” Acorna said, finding herself a little stunned by the information, “I can well imagine. That would explain the existence of the sii-Linyaari, I suppose, but what about their disappearance?”

  “Tell us again what happened back on Vhiliinyar,” another Grandmother said, cocking her ears forward to show that she was listening most intently to Acorna.

  “Well—except for our friends going missing, nothing, really, which is what was so odd,” Acorna told her. “You would think, given our telepathic powers, that if something was about to capture our people or make them vanish as it did, even if the ground swallowed them up or some unseen bird of prey swooped away with them, at least one of them would have cried out for help. But no one remaining reports hearing anything like that, through their minds or their ears. The missing people were just gone.”

  “And you’re sure it’s not those bug things?” asked a Grandfather with a narrow-eyed half-snort toward the sky.

  “No, Grandfather. If it had been the Khleevi carrying them off, Aari would have known. He senses them, you know. Besides, the Khleevi were never good at hiding their presence or at any sort of subtlety, for that matter. Khleevi like their victims to scream, and to prolong the screaming as long as possible. They depended on terror as their primary tactic. It is what they feed on. Why would they do something so puzzling that no one can figure out whether to be afraid or not? It would serve no good purpose for them.”

  “What I’d like to know is, if something on Vhiliinyar made our folk disappear, did it make Khleevi disappear, too?” declared a Grandmother. “And if it did, why didn’t it disappear all of them? Preferably before they made such a big mess of our planets.”

  “You know, I’m beginning to remember something,” the eldest Grandmother said. “I was talking with Grandam once about our natures. You remember don’t you, Hraaya, the old stories of how fierce and smart and courageous our Terran forebears were? How the only way they survived was to be so wily and dangerous that the men of Terra could not capture them without trickery?”

  “Ho, yes, who can forget? It’s part of who we are.”

  “Yes,” she said. “But it’s not part of who they are, these younglings. The Friends, I remember Grandam saying, did not believe in fighting or killing, even when extremely provoked.” She paused, ate a mouthful of grass, and chewed thoughtfully. “And I remember asking, well then, how did they deal with people who wanted to hurt them—maybe hurt their younglings? And she said, oh, they didn’t do anything violent, but the aggressors disappeared. I wish such a thing worked on the Khleevi. It is certain those bugs were nasty enough to deserve to disappear. Perhaps your answer lies there, child. You did say you thought it might be something from the Ancients.”

  Acorna let her breath out in a deep sigh. Progress, at last. She began munching on a grass stem herself. So, once upon a time the Friends had caused aggressors to disappear. Interesting maybe, a little, but she still didn’t know how the Friends had caused it, or why it didn’t work on the Khleevi when they invaded Vhiliinyar, or why the long-gone Friends would cause people who were not aggressors, but their own descendants, to disappear now.

  Thariinye, reading her, said aloud, “Well, I think, if it is the Friends come back to haunt us, that these disappearances are a mistake. I bet they wouldn’t have let it happen if they were still around—I mean, the Friends took off a long time ago, didn’t they? So—if they left
something there that started grabbing people—it probably just didn’t recognize us.”

  Acorna looked at her young male friend, who was speaking matter-of-factly and—as usual—without troubling to engage many of his higher intellectual functions, as if he had suddenly manifested genius. Which, in a way, he had.

  “Excuse me, Khornya,” said the Attendant in the lime and fuchsia silks, approaching from behind, “Thariinye, we must ask you to retire for now and leave the Ancestors to their own company. So much stimulation, especially in the wake of the disaster that recently overtook us and the enormous output of energy required to restore the Ancestral Meadows, drains their stamina and vitality. Do you see how translucent their horns are becoming, just from conversation, without even the strain of healing?”

  “Nonsense, Granddaughter, I’m as spry as I ever was!” insisted the Grandmother who seemed to be this woman’s special charge. But the woman stroked Grandmother’s nose and cheeks and kissed her between the eyes and said, “Yes, but I can’t keep up with you. And Khornya and Thariinye have had a long journey. If you are not tired, they probably are.”

  “Ah, yes,” the oldest Grandfather said. “They don’t make younglings like they used to.”

  Acorna smiled at the remark, one so appropriate to the conversation they’d just been having.

  The Attendant in lime and fuchsia, whose name was Imaara, led Acorna and Thariinye to a pavilion and showed them where they could lay their sleeping mats. “You know, you might wish to consult the Ancestors’ library,” she said.

  “But I thought that the destruction of our planetary records by the Khleevi was total, that nothing remained of the files—” Acorna began.

  Imaara said, “Oh, I don’t mean any of the Linyaari records here on narhii-Vhiliinyar. I mean the Ancestral ones we attendants use as our handbook, training manual, journal, history, chronicle, what have you. These are personal records, not part of the planetary system of pooled knowledge. The main Linyaari archive was destroyed during the attack, but not our work. Our original materials are always carefully protected, and new material is divided among us. It is a continuously growing work, you see, as parts of it are still under construction.”